Right Above

"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat," I hissed, licking my burnt finger. It stung like Red Velvet mite, but those brownies weren't going to get themselves out of the hell-powered oven. With one last muttered curse for not buying new oven mitts, I threw my hands onto the pan and let out a screech. Life as an aspiring baker was just peachy. I chucked the pan onto the light oak wood floors and glared at it. It stared back at me in all its chocolaty glory, mocking my burnt palms. It stayed there for a solid two minutes before I went to reach for it again, this time with one finger to test the heat. I let out a sigh of relief and scooped up the pan with the tips of my fingers, "you may be my favorite tray but you need to stop being so mean to me." I paused in the middle of my vacant kitchen and reevaluated my life decisions. Everything that I had done in the past had led me to talk to a baking pan. That was being mean. "I really need to have some company over," I sighed and placed the brownie-filled tray onto my marble counter. I released my hair from my bun, giving it a good scratch through my roots. "Maybe I should get a dog - wait, no. We aren't allowed dogs. I wonder why Mr. Neil is still living here," I snickered at my own joke and sat in a lonely silence. "How is it awkward when I'm the only one here?" The loneliness and the scent of carcinogens were too much for me to handle. I flung on the sweater my dad had given me from the nineties, that had white paint marks from the last time he'd use it. I picked at the crusty substance and sighed, only getting plaque under my choppy nails. I took a step outside and instantly the New York chill had wrapped around my body for an all-too-tight hug. I hugged myself in attempts to warm myself up. A year living in the tundra city and I still haven't gotten used to the cold. My Georgia peach blood was too warm to be cooled down. "Rosemarie," a familiar voice cooed. I turned around to be met with the smile of Mrs. Neil, the only other southern belle in this complex. I returned the smile. "Hello Mrs. Neil, how've you been?" despite being seventy-years old, the woman had stayed in the best condition she could be for her age. I admired her for it, seeing as most women her age don't bother with trying to keep up and maintain their health. Although, I can't say that I could be as fresh as Mrs. Neil. "I've been lovely, dear," she took a step closer to me and gestured for me to come closer. I did as she said. The elderly woman brought her mouth to my ear, "rumor has it that there's a new couple moving in above you." I grinned, "that's amazing, Mrs. Neil. Are they here right now?" She nodded. "Would you like to go visit them with me?" "Ah, I'd love to," her southern accent was comforting as it echoed through the vacant halls of the complex. She was the closest thing I got to home away from home, I cherished her for that. "But Julian had insisted we go to that cookie dough place, you go on without me." Julian, or Mr. Neil, was the polar opposite of his wife. He was bad-tempered and such a prick that cacti were afraid of him. In fact, he could be the kind of the spiky plant. If you got to close, you could get pricked. How Mrs. Neil never managed to get pricked is probably how they ended up married for a successful fifty years. They were the pure definition of opposites attract. Mrs. Neil was a gorgeous melanin beauty from Alabama while Mr. Neil was as pale as snow and had Wisconsin origins. Regardless, they were the perfect couple and nearly never bickered. It was astounding but I secretly admired the both of them. They were the closest people I've gotten to grandparents. "You have fun," I grinned. "I'll see you soon, Mrs. Neil." She took off with a back-wave. I snorted at her touch with the youth and made my way up the stairs. Finding the golden door was easy, boxes were stacked over each other and a new door mat was placed in front of the entrance. I brought my hand up to the wood, ready to knock but jerked back as soon as it flung open without my finger even touching it. "Oh hello," a flustered, young lady spoke with a smile. She wore cropped leggings and a Pink sweatshirt with her pale hair tied into a loose ponytail. The paleness of her hair was a beautiful contrast to her bronze complexion. "I apologize, was I being too loud?" "No, of course not," I laughed. "I'm the room downstairs, I just thought it'd be nice to introduce myself. I'm Rosemarie." "Good to meet you, I'm Carys and I'm living with my boyfriend, Landry. He's out right now, picking up some food. Left me with unpacking," she finished with blowing away a rebellious strand of hair that had found its way to her face. "I'd be happy to help," I offered. She contemplated render for a hot second, "that would be great, thanks." Carys opened the door wider for me to step in. I slipped off my shoes at the door step, making her facial expression rather sour. "You don't have to." "Oh," I felt the sides of my face heat up in embarrassment. She laughed. "Well, those are the silverware boxes. Just empty those," the silver-haired girl ordered. I nodded and began unboxing the glasses. I organized them on the counter, keeping the biggest plates at the bottom as they slowly worked their way up by getting smaller and smaller. Moments passed before the door swung open with such force, it made me jump. I settled the glass in my hands on the island and turned around. Carys came running to the door with a big grin. She stretched out her arms to embrace the black-haired boy that had take-out bags running up and down his arms. "Rosemarie this is Landry. Landry, Rosemarie," I smiled at him. He returned the smile before looking back at his tiny girlfriend, "already making friends, Care?" She slapped him on the shoulder before snagging the bags off his arm and throwing them onto their coffee table. "Landry put your shoes back on," the girl rolled her eyes. Landry frowned and slipped back on his converse without tying the shoelaces. "Why do you guys take off your shoes?" "Everyone did it back at home," I laughed. The boy pointed a finger at me in agreement with a mouth-full of noodles. He swallowed and took a breath before talking. "If we don't take them off, we're gonna drag in all the cooties of New York," I snorted at his overly girly tone. They began teasing each other over mouthfuls of fried rice and steamed vegetables. I stood in awe for a moment at their tight-knit relationship. "I'll leave you two to be," I shuffled towards the door, feeling like a third-wheel. "I have some homework to catch up on and some cakes to not burn." Carys smiled, "thanks for the help, Rosemarie. We hope to see you soon, bring us some cake." Landry waved at me, mirroring his girlfriends glee. I waved to the both of them before dragging myself out of the door. After finding myself to my own space, I let out a held in groan, "am I the only single one in this entire complex?" I stumbled inside of my condo as the absence of people hung in the air. The silence was too loud for me to be comfortable so I flicked on some music to make myself feel accompanied. My body found its way to the kitchen, as usual. I grabbed a few random ingredients and a variety of pans to begin experimenting. The journal that held all my sacred recipes laid on my counter. I flipped to a clean, crisp page and grabbed a stray pen. The staple items were tossed into my designated mixing bowl. I tossed in some cinnamon and grated carrots. I made sure they were well-incorporated in the batter before popping it into the oven. An aroma of cinnamon had weaved it's way through my area. I followed the scent to the kitchen with a grin that stretched across my face. I carefully pushed the pan out of the oven with a wooden skewer, still reminisced about my old oven mitts. Drool dripped off my chin as I grabbed a fork and dug into the fluffy goodness. "You know," I talked to noone in particular with a full mouth. "If I had a boyfriend, I couldn't have this cake all to myself." Oh, the perks of being single